Dark Blue
by Cela Fille
Summary: You never know what you have until you lose it, and once you lose it, you can never get it back. .:Oneshot:. For Lola.


**Inspired by "Feeling a Moment" by shesaid01. Read it. It's amazing. Way better than mine, anyway :)**

**For Lola. Because she's awesometastic. So is this song.**

**And Sydney- I did the comma thing, just for you ;) **

* * *

**Dark Blue**

_Slow down... this night's a perfect shade of  
Dark blue.  
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you  
I said the world could be burning down._

- Dark Blue, Jack's Mannequin

--

You came to Prom to win the man you love back. It was the only thing running through your mind as you crimped your glossy brunette hair, slipped into a slinky midnight black Versace number, and stared at the mirror for hours, trying to figure out which look will get him running back into your arms. You ignored your three best friends and their dates as they piled into Alicia's limo, as they did last minute check ups on their hair, dress, and corsage, as they strutted (and the boys, well, walked) into the crowded ballroom of the five-star hotel your school had rented.

You can't breathe.

_This isn't happening. _

You feel faint. You hear the concerned jumble of voices beside you, coaxing you to sit down and take a sip of the punch, that you're sure is spiked. Squeezing your Bourjois-covered eyes shut, you silently will it to just _go away. _But it doesn't disappear, like every problem in your life has done up to that point. No, it's still there.

Shit.

A heart-shaped spotlight. How clichéd, you think irritably. This wasn't supposed to happen, but all the same, you smack yourself on the head for not expecting it. It had been staring at you right in the face for ages, but like always, you shut your eyes, blinding you from the possibility that there might just be someone else.

And you hate yourself for it.

Maybe it would have eased the pain. Probably not. Because, despite the fact that they don't look any more glamorous than the other couples in the room, you can see there is something much more than just friendship. No, that's something else. Something he never had with you. And never will.

You drown a Strawberry Daiquiris and frown when it fails to numb you from the fucking chick flick playing out in front of your eyes.

Her dress is tacky, you decide. Powder blue. A small, no-name brand. Faint sparkles. Knee-length, slightly puffed skirt. Not sophisticated and sexy like your dress. Too innocent. But, though you hate to admit it, it looks good. You could never pull it off.

She ruffles his shaggy hair with her hand and mouths 'loser' with a playful smile on her face and he grins. Everyone of his perfect, tic tac white teeth are visible into that irresistible grin that used to be aimed at you.

He laughs and she just glows and glows and glows.

That's when you realize that your beauty, wit, and charm just aren't enough to keep him.

And that thought alone makes you want to burst into tears.

But you're Massie Block. And Massie Block never cries. But when her pale lips briefly make contact with his cheek, a warm sting hits the back of your amber eyes.

And you run.

You run out of Prom with a running mascara, aching feet, and a hollow feeling in your chest that you recognize to be only one thing.

Heartbreak.

--

You came to Prom to win the girl you love back. You borrowed one of Harris' tuxes, got an turquoise and cerulean tie that matched _both _your eyes, and even bought a corsage. In blue. Her favorite color. You ignored your friends and their annoying dates as they jabbered away in the Rivera's limo. As far as you heard, she was just coming with a friend. Perfect. Time to swoop in, ask her to dance, and win her heart back again. The thought makes you whistle merrily on your way to the ballroom.

And you stop mid-tune.

She's dancing with him. He was the friend.

Fuck.

They look good together. Perfect, even. A golden couple. Like you used to be.

Massie falls into one of the cushioned seats and her minions immediately begin fanning her and cajoling her into drinking some of the shitty, spiked punch. But you can see beyond her dramatic act and your own feelings are reflected in her glassy eyes.

Sorrow.

Regret.

Anguish.

A green-eyed monster is clawing at you insides, tearing you apart piece by piece. Because this never happens to you. She always comes running back to you.

It's hard to imagine that just a few weeks before, her ocean-blue eyes were brimmed with tears as you quietly explained to her that 'It just wasn't working out.' You could see it in her eyes. You hurt her.

She was your lifeline. If soccer was too harsh, or schoolwork was getting to you, or your parents were ignoring you, she'd be there. Just a smile and a kiss and you'd feel better.

But the 'perfect couple' thing got boring. You needed a break. And you knew that she'd be there when you felt like getting back together. You know it's narcissistic but it's true.

She looks radiant. Her cream-colored skin glows and a faint blush tints her cheeks as he gazes at her with blazing intensity. Her dress is simple. Not like the hundreds of sequined, revealing, floor-length gowns that everyone else is wearing. And that's what sets her apart from everyone else.

He tucks a silken lock of blonde hair behind her ear and whispers something. Her eyes light up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree.

She never did that for you.

You must be a masochist because you just stand there and stare, not bothering to avert your eyes from the people who are causing you so much pain.

But when she presses her lips to his cheek in a lingering kiss, you swear loudly, chuck your drink at an unsuspecting Kemp, and run.

Friends your ass.

--

In the center of the ballroom, a boy and a girl are dancing, completely oblivious to everything and everyone around them.

"Ooh! Fergie!" the girl giggles as 'Clumsy' blasts from the loudspeakers.

"Ehmagawd, Fergie!" the boy imitates, his arms wrapping tighter around her slender waist as he smirks. "I, like, totally love her!"

"Shut up Derrick,"

"Ouch, Claire bear," he places a palm over his heart and widens his puppy-dog eyes innocently. "That hurts,"

She laughs, a soft, tinkling laugh, and he can't take his eyes off her. He leans in so their foreheads are touching and she blushes.

"You got me slipping, oh, tumbling, oh, sinking, oh, fumbling, oh," he sings in a girly falsetto. "Clumsy cause I'm falling in love. I-in love. I'm in love with you,"

Her cobalt eyes sparkle, and pure joy is etched across her beaming face.

He places a soft kiss on her forehead and that's enough to mark her as his.

--

_See those two in the spotlight?_

_A **girl**__, whose fragile heart has been broken many times over._

_A **boy**, who loves her like no one else ever could._

_See those two in the spotlight? That is love._

* * *

**Love it? Hate it? Too fluffy? Review.  
**

* * *


End file.
